


Thoughts of a Herald

by cheshireArcher



Category: Henry V - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Canon Relationships, Diplomacy, Heartbreak, Implied background relationship, Pining, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9840173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/pseuds/cheshireArcher
Summary: Montjoy, the herald, realizes things as he delivers his messages to Henry V, King of England.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentle_herald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentle_herald/gifts).



> For Gentle_herald! My first time writing Montjoy. Hope you like it.

It snuck up on Montjoy. The feeling crept through his subconscious and when it finally made itself known it was both a relief and a source of fear.

The French herald was in love with King Henry V of England.

At first things had been simply Montjoy doing his job, delivering messages from King Charles and the Constable to the English court. Henry had not been what he expected from what was scoffed at at Montjoy's home court. He was intelligent and always calculating. If he was not upset his eyes were mild and gentle, but if angered they were those of a lion. Montjoy could tell he was dealing with a shrewd monarch that had a ruthless, cold approach to business- but he also seemed pious and contemplative. 

Or was he haunted by something. 

Montjoy saw the king as he really was- a warrior- covered in mud and blood and beautiful and driven by some divine cause that had nothing to do with his supposed right to the throne of France. His respect grew with every meeting but it was at Agencourt that Montjoy truly loved him. 

It was a terrible time to fall in love, especially since he had to be the one to tell Henry of the Constable's offer of ransom and truce- which the English king refused, telling Montjoy where to stick the message. 

Montjoy, heartbroken for no reason, bowed and told the King he would never hear him again. 

Maybe it was for the best.

At the end of the day, France had lost. Thousands dead with only a handful of English casualties. Trapped in the mud and weighed down by their armor and horses, the French had been arrow fodder for the English with the high ground.

Montjoy had said that Henry would never see him again, but now he came to the king, who was accompanied by Exeter, the King's brother Gloucester, and some strange, talkative Welshman. 

"Have you come for ransom again?" The king demanded. He looked weary but he stood tall, at least a head taller than Montjoy. His armor was coated in mud and he had some new wounds in addition to the gruesome yet fascinating scar on his right cheek. 

"No," Montjoy said in a soft voice. "I came to ask for you to allow us to take count and bury our dead."

Henry's eyes were unreadable. He could either be sympathizing with the French tragedy or turning cold and about to refuse dignity to his enemies.

"We will sort our noblemen out from the commoners," Montjoy continued. They had all fallen together. 

"We don't know who won," Henry replied, his face still an enigma. "You still have men in the field."

Montjoy's heart sank lower than he thought possible. "The day is yours," he said. 

The King praised God as Montjoy prayed for the souls lost. 

Among the French noble dead were Jacques of Chatillion, Lord Rambures, Sir Guichard Dauphin, John Duke of Alanson, Anthony Duke of Brabant, the brother to the Duke of Burgundy, Edward Duke of Bar, Grandpré and Roussi, Faulconbridge and Foix, Beaumont, Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrake. Charles d' Albret, Constable France, had been found dead, mangled despite his armor. The Duke of Orléans had failed to remain stoic upon hearing the news, leading Montjoy to suspect there was more to the tears than simple camaraderie.

Montjoy didn't know how he could love a man who caused the death of so many. 

But he did anyway.

\---

The negotiations dragged on for months, which turned into years. Five long, excruciating years passed, with Henry and Montjoy's king locked in debate over what lands Henry would have, and how succession would work, and finally, the part of the bargain that crushed Montjoy's spirit- Katherine, the princess, whom Henry wished to marry. 

He'd known Katherine all her life, a bright, sweet girl born with the bearing of a princess. He'd been something of an extra parent to her, especially since her father was insane half the time, and he was proud of the beautiful, smart woman she'd grown into. He wanted nothing but the best for her.

And yet he found it difficult to swallow that someone else would have Henry- of course, it had to be a woman, it couldn't be a man- but still Montjoy had to somehow swallow his jealousy and his feeling of being abandoned despite Henry not being anything near someone who could have abandoned him. It had all been in his mind. Henry finally seeing Montjoy's feelings and reciprocating. He wanted to grab the king, kiss him passionately and be kissed back, feel those strong arms around him, a hand in his hair- 

Montjoy snapped out of his fantasy as Henry introduced the new queen to her people, represented by those gathered in Westminster to witness their union. Two hearts and two kingdoms as one. Montjoy felt himself torn apart inside. The knight and the princess married like in the stories. The kingdoms at peace. His beautiful king happy- 

Henry was happy. Happier than Montjoy had ever seen him. Katherine must have brought out the humanity in him. And slowly Montjoy knew without really realizing it that if he loved Henry, he would want him to be happy, even without him. He couldn't defeat the sadness inside him with this knowledge but it would have to suffice. 

But far in the back of his mind, filed away with his daydreams of the king opening up to him, was his wondering if Henry wanted the same for him.


End file.
